


b-side you

by persephhoney



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternative Universe - Record Store, Angst, Blood, Character Death, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Ghosts, M/M, but only because he's a ghost
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-13
Updated: 2019-11-20
Packaged: 2021-01-29 10:00:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,985
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21408325
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/persephhoney/pseuds/persephhoney
Summary: Yuri was going to get this job. He was going to make enough money by the end of the summer and he was gonna get out of here. He never thought, though, that his new job would entail a cute dead boy in a leather jacket and a crooked smile.
Relationships: Otabek Altin/Yuri Plisetsky
Comments: 11
Kudos: 16
Collections: Otayuri Mini-Bang 2019





	1. without a place to go

**Author's Note:**

> I have had the absolute pleasure working on this bang piece and working with such a badass babe of an artist, ageneremrys for the past few months. They're an absolute angel  
you can find them on [twitter](https://twitter.com/agenderemrysart) to check out their [art](https://twitter.com/agenderemrysart/status/1195273440829345793?s=20)  
you can also find me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/crownedcirce) and [tumblr](https://crownedcirce.tumblr.com/)
> 
> I will be updating this every week, so stay tuned! 
> 
> This chapter title comes from  
[ghost on the dancefloor by blink-182](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YHPsjZ-TFxA)
> 
> I have missed these boys so much and I thrive on comments so if you want more otayuri, that's the best encouragement I could ever ask for x

It had only been an hour since Yuri left, slamming the front door in his mother’s face. It was starting to get dark now too, and he wasn’t sure what else he could do. He winced at the memory of their argument. He couldn’t go back, not yet. He knew it was stupid but his pride wouldn’t allow it. He also knew this wouldn’t be the end of it, nor was it the beginning. 

The air in their tiny kitchen had been stuffy earlier. It was humid and beads of sweat were forming on both of their foreheads. Yuri’s blonde hair was beginning to stick to the back of his neck. If he mentioned it at all that summer, he’d end up in a separate argument about cutting it off. God, he was just so sick of fighting. Yuri clenched his teeth anyway as what he had yelled out tore through his throat and settled in the pit of his stomach. 

Yuri’s mother turned and retaliated, a ceramic plate in hand. “Do _something_ with your life! Go get a job, move out, leave!” She turned back to the kitchen sink, rage still heavy in the set of her shoulders. The plate dropped to the floor. It shattered. 

Yuri, with tears in his eyes and hands shaking, turned. And did. 

He ended up at Guang-Hong’s place. Guang-Hong was no real help when it came to job ideas but he did assure Yuri that his mother probably didn’t mean what she had said. She wouldn’t force him to do anything, she was just angry, he said. Yuri had a one-track mind though and a point to prove. He had to do something. 

Yuri slept on Guang-Hong’s floor that night. He did that sometimes. It wasn’t that bad, really. The worst part honestly was the looks of distress Guang-Hong gave him, absent-mindedly running his hands through his honey brown hair. They were friends, yes. But, they had also been something more once. It hadn’t worked out. Yuri felt bad for putting Guang-Hong through this, he really did. But he couldn’t find it within himself to apologise. He was always a bit of an asshole like that. It’s probably why it never worked in the first place but Guang-Hong knew this, and Yuri knew that he would never ask him to leave. 

Yuri neatly folded some of his belongings while Guang-Hong showered. It was odd, he thought, that everything he ever really needed was able to be stacked up into a neat little pile. He placed them inside Guang-Hong’s closet and his heart ached for just a moment. It wasn’t because he wished to see his clothes sitting beside his friend’s for the rest of his life or anything. It wasn’t like that, that ship had definitely sailed. But, it was because it looked like he might belong there, even just for a little while. He had never felt that at home. He always felt more like a ghost just fading in and out of temporal spaces. He was just here temporarily, he had to remind himself. This was just until he figured this out. 

He began his search for a job the next morning, tracking down every _ Help Wanted _print-out in the shop windows of their shitty town. He rode through the streets on his skateboard, the smell of hot pavement and Jasmine from their neighbour’s gardens assaulting his senses. It smelled like summer but to Yuri, it was a reminder of another year passing without any chance of leaving. 

His flannel flapped in the breeze behind him, tied around his waist like the dirty skater douchebag he was. He looked into every window of every shop he saw. For some reason though, the long blonde hair, the ripped jeans and scuffed chucks weren’t really doing it for any of the store owners hiring. He probably should have expected that. 

He made his search into a group activity. There was no way he was missing his summer just because he was a little desperate for cash. He invited Guang-Hong and Sara on his daily adventures through the streets. Sara was a better skater than he was so she often rode ahead of Guang-Hong and Yuri. She was a vision of beauty, riding in the afternoon sun in ripped shorts and a baseball tee. Mila joined them too, sometimes. She was meant to be working a shift at the skating rink the first day she showed up. Instead, her priority was clearly to hold Sara’s hand as they sailed side by side. Yuri couldn’t resist riding by them and flipping the stupid backwards snapback off Mila’s head. 

It was on a Saturday when it happened, though. Nobody else had come with him, they all had family events, unlike Yuri, obviously. He had promised Guang-Hong that he’d stay out of his way and he texted his mother to tell her he hoped she had a good weekend with her boyfriend. He still hadn’t been home. 

Yuri leaned his skateboard against a steel fence, the trucks clanging against it before he left it to wander inside _ Yu-Topia Records _ , the only store he’d missed so far. He hadn’t even realised it was still open for business. It was the least visited place in the small row of stores that lined the pot-hole prone road on the edge of town. The overly ambitious teal color of the painted brick was flaking and it was probably riddled with asbestos. It certainly screamed something like “ _ welcome to hell, you’ll get trapped and never leave _” to people who entered the town for the first time. Yuri was focused though, not on the dodgy feeling the stupid store gave him, but on the little sign in the front window. 

_ Get a job, Yuri, _ he told himself. _ Get some money, support yourself, get out of here. _

The smell of second-hand vinyl hit him even before he heard the tinker of the tiny bell above his head when he opened the door. He was then immediately confronted with a shelf of books, way too close to the entrance of the store in his opinion. He dodged it, thankfully, but found himself in a dusty, dimly lit maze constructed only by stacks of records in crates and on shelves that brushed the ceiling. There were piles of books on the floor, stacked up and not in any sort of order that he could easily determine. They were obvious tripping hazards, but he weaved his way through the aisles with some grace, he thought. 

In the corner of the store, he found that there was a small desk that he supposed could be used as a shop counter. There was a dark-haired boy, or man really, probably in his twenties, with glasses slipping down his cheeks as he held an open book. 

“Might need new glasses if you’re holding the book that close to your face,” Yuri interrupted him. The man visibly jumped a little in his seat. He obviously hadn’t even heard Yuri come in. 

“Oh, sorry you startled me. I got a little… engrossed,” His voice was a little shaky, unprepared. It was like he was shocked he would even have to talk to anyone today which is an odd assumption given the circumstances. “Can I help you with something?” He closed the novel and pushed his glasses back up onto his nose. 

“I saw that you were hiring.”

The man behind the desk spoke softly, though Yuri knew what was coming the moment his brown doe-eyes looked him up and down. “I’m not so sure that you’d be the right fit, I’m sorry.” 

“You don’t know that,” Yuri rolled his eyes. Both of the man’s black eyebrows shot up, retreating behind the strands of dark hair that fell onto his face. “Uh sorry. I mean, you haven’t even taken my resume. I can work a till it can’t be that hard.”

The man sighed. “Do you listen to music on vinyl, Kurt?” 

“My name’s Yuri,” he defended before he realised a moment later that it was, in fact, a music joke intended to categorise him according to the way he dressed. “Well. No, but I could if I worked here.” 

“You’re lucky we’re desperate, Yuri.” The man said cautiously. 

“For real? Just like that? Was that my interview?”

“No, not just like that. Hand me your resume. I’ll call you within a week if you’re suitable.” 

To say that Yuri was a little proud of himself as he sauntered out of _ Yu-Topia _ Records was an understatement. He silently thanked the strange establishment for even giving him half a chance at a job that sounded like he could do it in his sleep. He held a business card in his hand with the man from the store, unfortunately, named Yuuri’s, name and number on the back. He left with the sweet yet begrudging promise of a phone call within a week ringing in his ears. 

He was going to get this job. He was going to make enough money by the end of the summer and he was gonna get out of here before his mother started to scream at him about college. He was going to be on a bus on a road to who-the-fuck-knows in no time. And he wasn’t going to look back.


	2. without a hint of light

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Close and lock the place up at ten,” Yuuri instructed. “And uh. If those kids with the skateboards come back, just lock the door.” 
> 
> Yuri’s cheeks burned. As if the ugly wound on his cheek wasn’t enough of an embarrassing reminder that he’d had his ass kicked by pavement and chased by hoons.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And I'm back for an update! And Yuri is back at it being the asshole skater he is. I love him so much.
> 
> This chapter title is also from "ghost on the dancefloor" by blink-182 
> 
> comments are so appreciated xx
> 
> you can find me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/crownedcirce) and [tumblr](https://crownedcirce.tumblr.com/)  
and don't forget to check out agenderemrysart's beautiful [art](https://twitter.com/agenderemrysart/status/1195273401562259456)

“What are you doin’ here, Plisetsky?” a voice came from behind him as he got to his board just outside of  _ Yu-Topia Records _ . “Since when did you become a hipster?” 

Yuri turned. He knew who that voice belonged to before he even saw his face. Tyler Bradshaw, King Dickhead of the overpopulated prison yard they had once called high school. 

“Since now.” Yuri faced him. “Just applied for a summer job.” He was grinning and honestly, it was too much. He never liked this guy but he was on cloud fucking nine. He was going to tell anyone who dared ask. 

“Here?” Tyler asked, sounding utterly disgusted. 

Yuri shrugged. “Why not?”

Tyler seemed to just ignore that response and adjust the stupid cap sitting on top of his head. It was then that Yuri noticed a group of Tyler’s friends standing around, waiting and grimacing while the two of them spoke. 

“You know what? I’m gonna head home,” Yuri decided. 

“Why go home? You should come ride with us, we’re going up to the park.” Tyler’s usually-angry face contorted into a grin that Yuri knew to be menacing. 

“Why would I want to do that?” Yuri sighed, remembering that Tyler’s idea of fun was breaking and entering, and practically trying to kill himself any way a skateboard and half pipe could assist. He was an asshole and he was dangerous and he brought out something ugly in Yuri that he never wanted to see in himself again. 

“We’ve so much to catch up on,” he sneered. Reminders of their toxic frienemy-type relationship came seeping into his memory, dripping off the tone of Tyler’s voice. Yuri dropped his board to the ground, stopping it from rolling with one foot.  _ Not today, no way.  _

“Not today, Bradshaw.” 

“Oh  _ come on _ , Plisetsky. You could finally try and master the jumps you would never commit to.” Tyler knew Yuri didn’t do jumps. He used his board to get from point a to point b. He wasn’t a snotty little show-off like Tyler was. “It’s not like you have anything better to do.”

“Just shut up, Tyler. You don’t know shit.” Yuri watched as Tyler’s face shifted to anger. “I’ll come skate with your little gang another time, okay? Maybe I’ll tell Guang-Hong to come along too, how does that sound?”

Why couldn’t he ever keeps his stupid mouth shut? He knew that he was just pouring salt on a wound that really didn’t need to be re-opened. Despite how much of a dick Tyler was. Guang-Hong and Tyler had dated until Yuri came skating by and, in the words of Tyler, stole him away. Guang-Hong was happy with his new boyfriend, Leo now. He obviously just had a type for assholes with long hair and shitty skate decks. 

Yuri’s comment obviously triggered something though, just like he knew it would but was too stupid to consider the consequences first. Yuri watched on as Tyler’s blue eyes seemed to set aflame. He whipped his head towards the couple of friends waiting for him, jerking his head, silently telling them to come over. Yuri swallowed thick. It was his time to leave. He could take Tyler, sure. But three guys? He wasn’t _ that _ stupid. Yuri’s feet hit his board without hesitation. He kicked his foot out behind him after cursing a few more choice words, this time at least aimed at himself. 

It only took five seconds before Tyler realized Yuri was skating away. He could hear his angry shouts as he too hopped on his skateboard and told his friends to hurry the fuck up. The streets weren’t too busy, but there were still parked card on the side of the road to dodge and blinding sun peeking behind buildings to block from his view. Balancing as he rolled along the pavement became his biggest task as he squinted ahead of him, using one arm out at his side to keep him stable while he used the other as a sun visor. 

The others were gaining speed and getting close. Yuri needed to find somewhere to stop. He could hear the gravelly hiss of their wheels skidding along the pavement too close behind him. He glanced back. 

And then his wheel hit a rock. Yuri’s body propelled forward while his board halted. 

He hit the pavement.

♫

Yuri couldn’t move. His chest burned. Air was too far for him to breathe and fill his starving lungs. When he opened his eyes he saw a speckled mess of blood. It must have been from where it felt as if his face had been ripped from his skull. He felt his raw skin throb against gravel as he laid there, dizzy. 

The sound of his board being picked up followed. Along with a string of curses and insults that Yuri couldn’t quite make sense of through the pain. What he could make out though, was the sound of his skateboard splintering into two before he could even try to stop them. 

  
  


♫

Yuuri placed a set of keys in Yuri’s open palm after two training days a little over a week later. Apparently, that concluded the guidance needed to make it in the record store business. Yuuri’s mother, the owner, ran him through the till and cash register but Yuri had worked in retail before. Obviously, his eyes glazed over. She still had given him an enthusiastic thumbs up when she had finished her instructions, despite probably knowing that Yuri wasn’t at all paying attention. She was sweet. He did feel bad about not listening. 

“We will be in-store two days a week” Yuuri explained. “Other than that, you have this place to yourself so  _ please _ call if you have any questions.” 

“That’s really not a problem” Yuri mumbled. Being an asshole all the time got tiring, he needed some time alone to recharge. 

The whole thing was so casual, though. He wasn’t even sure that this was legal, but he was getting paid to sit in a quiet record store and just… make sure that the place didn’t burn down? He could do this. 

“Close and lock the place up at ten,” Yuuri instructed. “And uh. If those kids with the skateboards come back, just lock the door.” 

Oh. So, he had seen what happened. Yuri’s cheeks burned. As if the ugly wound on his cheek wasn’t enough of an embarrassing reminder that he’d had his ass kicked by pavement and chased by hoons. 

Despite his sore ego though, Yuri nods. “Sure thing, boss.” 

The job, Yuri hated to admit, was kind of perfect. Yuri didn’t see a single soul wander into the store until well after the blistering heat of the summer days had begun to cool in the early afternoon. On that first day Yuri worked he made a few sales, mostly just the classic albums every bourg-y hipster with a record player wanted. Nirvana, The Beatles, The Rolling Stones, you know the type. After only a few hours, really, the store quietened down. Yuri jumped up from behind the counter when the sun began to burn orange, low in the sky.

Yuri wandered through the small isles of music. His nose itched. It was dim and it was dusty, but everything was organised according to genre. He wasn’t big on music collection, but the music did help him through a lot of tough times in his short life so far. So, he wasn’t exactly an alien to the idea or any of the titles. He flicked through new and old, thin fingers rattling the soft plastic sleeves. Nobody was coming in to bother him this time of evening. 

He heard a tap over on the abandoned counter in the corner behind him. He turned, ready to apologize to the waiting customer, wondering why the bell above the door didn’t ring as somebody walked in. After staring back towards the desk, a miscellaneous album in his hands, he heard the old building creak and settle into itself under the cooling of the summer heat. He blinked at the nothingness of that moment. 

He sighed. Of course, it was just the first day nerves. The bell above the door rang then. Yuri tried not to be offended by the concerned glare he received by an old man who looked shocked as Yuri rounded the corner with his greeting, scabs on his face and arms healing over and peeling. He really must have looked rough. The judgment of that really was not his concern though. He shrugged it off and did his job just as he was being paid to do. 


End file.
